


My Blood Runs Red For You

by DemonessInRed



Category: Historical RPF, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Dom/sub, F/M, Gun Kink, Gunplay, Historical Fantasy, Historical Inaccuracy, Magic, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Painplay, Perversion, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Sex, Time Travel, Wrong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-08 16:24:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7764793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonessInRed/pseuds/DemonessInRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A would-be witch's dabbling in magic and the power of her erotic dreams conjure the young Stalin, on whom she has a hopeless crush, across time and into her arms. But what evils - and what acts of passion - will result from this?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I make no claim to write serious or accurate historical fiction here, only snippets of pure erotica. I know this is dirty, bad and wrong, but I cannot help but write this to get it out of me.

Is it the cards or the crystals that have brought him to me? Or simply the forceful, sensual nature of the dreams that have gripped me against my will, night after night? Strange and erotic reveries, in which he captures my heart and my body in every way that can be imagined. 

Every time I wake up, I am blushing and shaken, ashamed of my wanton thoughts and of my passion for this man who was so evil and caused the world so much suffering. But oh, how gloriously handsome he was in his youth, before the paranoia, the puritanism and the atrocities! Part of me has always wished that I could save him from what he became, offer him back an innocence that perhaps he never had in the first place.

Or that I could corrupt him with the wildness of my desires.

This night when I awaken too soon from yet another dream, I think I am hallucinating when I hear him speak my name.

“Zana,” he says, his voice so seductive that it makes my heart hammer within my chest. “Come to me.”

He stands beside my bed, and he looks just as he does in all my dreams and fancies. He is not physically perfect, but I love that about him; he possesses the kind of male beauty that captivates me utterly. Slight and slender of build, as I prefer the few men I have allowed into my bed to be. Such magnificent hair, and a penetrating gaze that completely melts me. 

Not yet convinced that he is real, I cautiously slip out of bed and approach him. With his frailer left hand he plucks at my nightgown, a flimsy garment of translucent white nylon and lace, a self-conscious parody of virginal purity.

“Tale it off,” he softly commands, and I do as he asks without hesitation, standing bare before him in an instant. His stronger right hand reaches to lightly stroke my breasts, and my nipples harden beneath his appreciative and possessive touch. I know now, without a single doubt, that he is real.

“Say my name,” he orders, and I gasp as he sharply pinches one of my sensitive nubs. “The name you love to call out in bed when you come, the name you cry when you wonder how it would feel to have me inside you.”

“Koba,” I whisper, and he smiles and nods approvingly.

He pulls me closer, and I weaken under the power of his eyes and the strength of his embrace.

“I came across time, called by the siren song of your love. I ache for you as you do for me, and will forever. Your perverted sweetness has made me utterly depraved,” he murmurs, his voice pure dark seduction. 

His arms tighten around me, and I shiver with a fearful ecstasy.

“From now on, you are mine,” he whispers lovingly. “Mine to hurt and mine to please… In every orifice I will claim you, and we shall be bound by pleasures and agonies too strange and beautiful to speak of aloud.”

“Yes, Koba, yes – I am yours!” I almost sob, and he kisses me deeply.


	2. A Better Game Than Russian Roulette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tell me you love me!” he harshly commands, and my tears begin to flow... 
> 
> “Say that you belong to me only, Zana! Tell me you will always be mine!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel so dirty for writing this. If anyone deserves to be sent to a gulag, it is me!

_I can hardly believe this is happening, but it is. The magic, or the dreams, have done their part, and brought him to me._

_He is here, in this room with me, right now, and he lusts for me and loves me as much as I lust for and love him._

_Part of me remains hesitant and apprehensive, however, remembering all that this most alluring young man went on to become. An inner voice seems to be chiding me, warning me: “Never forget what this man has done. Never forget that he is Stalin.”_

_But when I look into his eyes I become weak at the knees all over again._

_No, I silently tell the inner voice, he has not done those things yet, and if I have my way, he never will._

_He is not Stalin. He is my Koba._

_My love and my life_.

Koba undresses swiftly, and I sit on the bed and watch him, spellbound. I am already soaking wet from needing him so much, and I know that he can sense that. As he comes closer, I notice that he holds something metallic in one hand. 

_A revolver_... 

My eyes widen, and I utter a sudden shriek of horror as he gives me a cruelly titillating smile and puts the gun to my head.

“Hush, sweet one,” he says soothingly, placing a small, soft kiss upon my dry lips. “I know you will like this game. I have seen all your secret dreams, after all, and I know just how to give you what you truly want.”

Faith in God is something I have always tried to spurn, but still I find myself praying that the weapon he holds will not turn out to be loaded. I want to believe that it is not – to be trusting – yet still I am afraid.

I have never seen Koba look so beautiful – or so terrifying.

A thin film of sweat glistens on his bare chest and arms, and his gaze is dark and predatory. His tousled hair, catching glimmers of the room’s dim light, resembles a perverse and radiant halo. I shiver, feeling more naked and exposed before his searching eyes than ever.

“Do you love me?” he rasps seductively as the revolver presses harder against my temple. “Do you trust me?”

“Always,” I choke, my voice barely audible even to myself. His free hand lovingly strokes the side of my face, moving gradually down to gently press momentarily against my throat before finally coming to rest just above my collarbone.

“Open your mouth.”

I whimper a little as the barrel of the gun slides between my parted lips, and I slowly caress it with my tongue, tasting it as if it were his own hardened flesh. He exhales sharply, his body tense with arousal.

“Get it nice and wet for me,” he whispers.

With a strangled sob, I take as much of the barrel into my mouth as I can, and his breathing quickens as he watches me. I can see his beautiful cock and how swollen he has become at the sight of me, and despite my urge to quake with abject fright I feel a thrill of power at being able to excite him so.

He carefully pulls the gun from my mouth, and kisses me again, this time vicious and biting, and tears suddenly fill my eyes as I taste my own blood. Climbing onto the bed beside me, he lifts me up onto my knees as he kneels behind me, nuzzling my neck and trailing the revolver lightly downwards over my body, rubbing it against my breasts before gliding it down to where I am still damp and heated for him despite my constant terror of the gun.

“Zana, my beloved, open for me,” he demands, and I cannot resist. I slide my legs apart and the revolver enters me; I almost scream but find myself angling my body so that the barrel can penetrate me more. Koba kisses the side of my throat, then nips at it, leaving the lurid marks of his teeth upon my pale skin. I moan aloud and undulate towards the motions of his hand between my thighs.

He presses his body more firmly against mine, teasing me with the delicious feel of his already leaking cock, and he laughs suggestively. 

“I knew you would like this, my lustful little one. You love the danger, the wildness in me, and it is your passion that makes me this way.”

His sharp teeth pierce the softness of my neck again, as he removes the gun-barrel from within me with skill and care. I find myself uttering a small sound of protest at this, and he laughs again, amused at my distress.

“Did you think I was done with you, Zana? Oh no, not yet, my love...”

He pushes me onto all fours and reaches to the nightstand for a bottle of moisturising cream, and I gasp in shock as I understand what he intends to do to me.

“Such a pretty little rear,” he murmurs, his fingers delicately stroking the curves of my bare ass until I cannot tell whether I am more frightened or aroused. “I want to be inside that little virgin hole, sweet Zana. Let me into you – hurt for me there, and I will show you what pleasure truly is!”

He lays the gun aside for several moments, and coats one hand liberally with the smooth, cool liquid. I tremble as he takes the revolver up again.

“See how depraved you have made me?” he growls, his slick fingers probing roughly between my cheeks, slathering cold cream all over my delicate flesh. He torments me exquisitely, stretching the tight ring of muscle wide open and tearing a sob from my dry, constricted throat. 

“If you are mine, as you say you are, then let me claim you this way too.” 

His tone is silken and caressing, and I tense in fear and desire as I feel the chill of gun-metal seeking to enter that most vulnerable part of me. I whimper his name as if to plead for mercy, but lift my hips for him, wanton and shameless before his relentless lust.

“I love you,” he says almost reverently, and thrusts the revolver deep inside me.

“Koba – please!” I scream, not knowing whether I want him to stop or take me even harder. But there is no escaping his ruthless passion, or the sheer force of my own wanting which now has me moving with his rhythm, yielding my most intimate opening to the exquisite violation of his gun. I am aching within, on the brink of climaxing from the glorious agony I feel, and he pounds into me even more roughly than before.

“Tell me you love me!” he harshly commands, and my tears begin to flow. I am hurting so much that I am sure I must be bruised and bleeding by now. “Say that you belong to me only, Zana! Tell me you will always be mine!” 

“Yes, Koba – love you – I am only yours!” I wail incoherently, and he casts aside the revolver, seizing my hips and entering me with his cock at last. His movements are gentler than before, soothing the tender walls of my delicate anal passage with the velvety warmth of his own flesh.

“So tight, my love – so perfect!” he moans, and I almost swoon from the heavenly sensations and the thrill of knowing that _he_ is the first man to be inside me there. Koba fills me so divinely, as if he was made only to give me pleasure. Of all the ecstasies that we are sure to share, I am certain that I will always crave this one the most, for its sheer forbidden sweetness and the intimate connection it has brought.

He reaches around in front of me to stroke my clitoris, and I cry his name, begging him to let me come for him. Koba teases me a little more, making me writhe in frustrated longing beneath him until he finally relents. We come together, and he withdraws carefully from within me and gathers me into his arms, kissing me softly and whispering endearments as I tremble and sob, laying my head down on his sweat-soaked chest.

Koba smooths my hair and tells me how beautiful I am, and how much he loves me.


End file.
